A very tolerant woman

 

is still having an influence on my life and that of the next generation and the next.

That picture above is one we recently found. It is of my paternal great-grandmother. She was, to put it mildly, a remarkable woman.  (We are not sure which year the photograph was taken but the baby would be one of the Senior Cat's generation.)

Great-grandma migrated from Caithness. She married another Scot from Caithness. She was a tough, hardworking crofter's daughter. She was also an extraordinarily tolerant woman. She would be considered a very tolerant woman now but for someone brought up in a strict Presbyterian family her tolerance was exceptional.

My great-grandmother married a man who was first a sailor but also became a self-taught marine cartographer and ship's pilot. The maps he and a fellow self-taught cartographer were still in use until computers took over. They were essential to his other work guiding the ships in and out of the inner harbour. Great-grandpa knew the river and those who lived, worked and visited it well. Back then there were people from all over the world. The crews came from everywhere. They were often composed of young men and some of them were homesick. Great-grandpa would sometimes take them home for a meal.

Somehow my great-grandmother's reputation grew. Eventually there was apparently a steady stream of young men who would arrive, often unannounced, looking for help and advice. My great-grandmother became the unofficial but highly efficient person who would now be considered to be a social worker. She handed out meals but expected wood to be chopped or some other small task to be done in return. She taught the young sailors to sew their own buttons on (and expected her own children to do the same). She no doubt listened to their tales about the girls they had left behind and much more. Alcohol was not allowed in the house and she demanded respect for all women present. 

I heard these things from the Senior Cat's aunts and uncles and from his own generation as well. It mattered. It mattered because people like my paternal grandfather carried the tradition on. His tailoring business was situated in the port area. He made uniforms for sea captains and repaired others. Like his mother he came to know some of the young sailors. He would sometimes phone my grandmother to say a young sailor needed a meal, some help. She would add extra potatoes to a meal and make the young man welcome.

Not all these young sailors spoke much English. They came from all sorts of backgrounds. They were far from always Christians, indeed it is likely most of them were not. My great-grandmother and her children after her made them welcome because that is what she believed was the right thing to do. The Senior Cat's generation carried that tradition on and my generation has done the same. The next generation has grown up in a more diverse world but the same has been expected of them.

It influences us today. I don't eat much meat but will occasionally buy some chicken for a friend who comes to lunch. As I was looking someone else I know asked me about some pork. I looked at her puzzled for a moment and then said, "I don't know. I don't eat pork." 

She looked startled and said, "I'm sorry - are you Jewish or something?"

No, I am not but I was suddenly aware of the fact that our family does not eat pork. There is a reason for it too. Great-grandma never knew when she was going to have to feed a stranger who might not be able to eat pork. We have carried that tradition on because she taught us you never knew who might come needing a meal - and they need to be made welcome.